


Stop and Go

by legitimatecacti (paigepussgurka)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Farmer Kita Shinsuke, M/M, Not Beta Read, Post-Time Skip, Pro Volleyball Player Miya Atsumu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:42:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23971006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paigepussgurka/pseuds/legitimatecacti
Summary: Atsumu has been go go go his entire life. Competing with his brother, with rival schools, with his own teammates, with himself. There’s never been time to stop! And why would he? Go go going gives him such a damn rush!It all makes him think of the old Inarizaki banner, Who Needs Memories? Because, shit, when life is like this who does? But when he has a day off and he sits down to eat, ‘Samu gives him what he says is the last of the fresh rice and his world burns rubber. Because there’s only one kinda rice like this. Only one person out there that ‘Samu would’ve gotten it from. With the look his brother is giving him, he knows it was on purpose, that bastard. Meant to say, “Hey asshole, it’s almost winter, rice is goin’. You better be, too, or he’s gonna worry.”And damn if it doesn’t do the job. The moment he can manage a few days off he’s on a train, go go going off to the middle of nowhere.
Relationships: Kita Shinsuke/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 13
Kudos: 108





	Stop and Go

**Author's Note:**

> I recently got into Haikyuu (just a few months ago tbh) and I've been trying to get back into writing for years. I've been up to my nose in writing AsaNoya one-shots and planning out a 3 part multi-chapter series (like...30+ pages of AsaNoya, y'all) and I was thinking how underserved the AsaNoya community is. 
> 
> But then I stumbled on AtsuKita after Ch391 and knew I needed to feed y'all first. It's unbeta'd and my handle on both of them is still shaky, but I hope it's enjoyable nonetheless. Thank you for reading!
> 
> Update: Did a little editing on word choice and formatting. Literally had to re-read the Inarizaki chapters after I finished the draft of this because I forgot Kita talks like a good Kansai country boy, just like the rest of 'em.

Atsumu has been _go go go_ his entire life. Competing with his brother, with rival schools, with his own teammates, with _himself_. There’s never been time to stop! And why would he? _Go go go_ ing gives him such a damn _rush_! At this point in his life, in his career, he’s surrounded by similar assholes. Hinata and Bokuto are always on the same wavelength as him, the old teammates he plays against like Ojiro and Suna are great fuel, even ‘Samu _go go go_ es, though it’s in a different direction. With his big fancy pro salary he moved himself to Osaka, the big city where everyone’s always _go go go_ in’.

It all makes him think of the old Inarizaki banner, _Who Needs Memories?_ Because, shit, when life is like this who does? But when he has a day off and he sits down to eat, ‘Samu gives him what he says is the last of the fresh rice and his world burns rubber to _stop stop stop_ , and the memories come flyin’ anyway. Because there’s only one kinda rice like this. Only one person out there that ‘Samu would’ve gotten it from. With the look his brother is giving him, he knows it was on purpose, that bastard. Meant to say, “Hey asshole, it’s almost winter, rice is goin’. You better be, too, or he’s gonna worry.” And damn if it doesn’t do the job. The moment he can manage a few days off he’s on a train, _go go go_ ing off to the middle of nowhere.

He makes the long trek from the train station out to the farm, and he’s not one for nature or scenic vistas or whatever but he has to admit that the farm is in a nice spot. Hills in the distance and fields of rice in between, it’s pretty. But it’s not really what he’s here for. By the time he tracks down his target, the last vestiges of the day’s heat are fading off behind the hills with the sun. 

And there he is. Kita Shinsuke in all of his dusty, Harvest Moon glory. He’s rising to his feet as Atsumu gets closer and when his eyes slide over to take him in, there’s not a hint of surprise. 

“Atsumu,” is all he says. Atsumu doesn’t know shit about photography but he thinks this is that golden hour people talk about, ‘cause the way it lights Kita’s eyes up is wild. The breeze tousles his stupid hair and he allows the softest smile, and Atsumu nearly dies right there. He hurries to put up his usual shitty attitude.

“K-Kita-san! Surprise! Happy to see me?”

“Always.” Holy shit, he’s going to die. He’s dead. “Want some tea?” 

“What, you not gonna feed me? I’ve been travelin’ all day, Kita-san, I’m dyin’ here!” He hopes for coddling and cooing, but he knows that ain’t Kita’s way and the dry stare he’s given confirms that.

“You should’ve eaten more. You’re a grown man, Atsumu, an athlete at that. You should take better care of yourself,” Kita says, passing by him as he wipes off his hands with a handkerchief from his pocket (only Kita-san would own a _handkerchief_ ). For a moment Atsumu worries he’s disappointed his old senpai enough to screw himself out of a Proper Kita-san Meal, but he’s quickly proven wrong when Kita glances back at him over his shoulder. “You hungry or not? Come on.”

And if that wasn’t enough to make him heel like a well-trained puppy nothing was.

Osamu’s a good cook. There, he said it. It’s true. He hates it, but it’s true. But there’s something about a Proper Kita-san Meal that hits different (‘Samu would say that it’s because he’s in love with Kita-san or something, which is _not true_ and also _completely ridiculous_ ). His meals are simple, never extravagant or showy, but they’re filling and make you feel taken care of. He’d probably learned to cook from his grandma, that must’ve been how he’d mastered that “made with love” flair. 

They move from fish and rice to soup and tea as the cool night air of late fall pressed into Kita’s cozy farmhouse. Kita, bless him, listens patiently and closely while Atsumu raves and rambles about every tiny, stupid detail of his life. It isn’t quite cold enough to start a fire, but it’s cold enough to pretend that’s the reason he’s sat so close to his old senpai. 

Kita looks good. Farm life suits him and he looks more at peace than ever, if that’s possible, if anyone could even tell the difference. Well. Atsumu could. It’s in the ways that those soft, golden smiles come out more often, more easily. He still radiates intense focus and seriousness, but that’s softer too. The quiet routine and hard labor of farming definitely had something to do with it. But the little altar in the corner, just a photo flanked by incense and a bowl of fresh rice, says that time has done it too. He wonders, briefly, what Kita sees when he looks at him. An overgrown version of the cocky asshole he was in high school? Maybe. But Kita never really saw him that way, did he? He’d been tough on him when needed, but he’d never shown any ill will or disdain like others had. He’d encouraged him. Came to all the Inarizaki games when he could back then. These days he texts Atsumu before every pro game to lecture him on his health and sportsmanlike conduct. 

Kita’s consistent and dedicated. He puts conscious effort every single day into the things he cares about, that make him happy. Atsumu likes to think he’s one of those things, and not just where volleyball is concerned. Whenever there’s rain in the forecast for Osaka (or whatever city he’s in, Kita must keep track) he gets a text in the morning reminding him to bring an umbrella and a coat. Even the unspoken things, like the rice he sends Osamu every fall and how he’d made accounts on Instagram and Twitter for the sole purpose of being able to follow Atsumu’s professional socials (and the socials of the other Inarizaki grads, but that was less important). It warms his bitter little heart to think that Kita-san extends such efforts to him.

The light’s starting to really shift outside, from orange to blue, and, on his way back from the kitchen with more tea, Kita puts on some music. It’s the usual: swingy, brassy jazz.

“You’re just a little old man, huh, Kita-san? Out here farmin’ and listenin’ to jazz with all that grey hair. I bet you even read the paper, don’t ya?”

“My granny always said I was an old soul.”

“Dammit, Kita-san, I’m tryin’ to get you riled up, stop being so nice.”

“You want me to be mean to you?”

“Well––” Atsumu processes for a moment before changing his mind, “Nah, but I want you to dance with me.” He stands and offers a hand, but Kita looks a bit hesitant. 

“I’m not a very good dancer.”

“Ain’t askin’ you to twerk or waltz or anything, c’mon, just a lil’ dance. I’ll lead, you don’t gotta worry ‘bout a thing.” When Kita’s hands finally land in his, he ignores the way his guts all flip and twist around and instead moves them to rest on his shoulders. Kita isn’t a little guy, he’s reasonably tall and he’s got some muscle from years of sports and farmwork. But like this, when Atsumu’s got his hands on him, he seems tiny (and maybe he is, a little bit, compared to Atsumu at least). Despite the earlier hesitance, Kita is looking him dead-on in the eyes. It’s a little unnerving, but his gaze is light and he looks about a step and a half from smiling as Atsumu sways them in a lazy circle. “Not too bad, right?”

“No. It’s nice.”

“‘Cause I’m so talented and good-lookin’?”

“Sure.” It almost stings but Kita is giving him that soft smile so nothing else matters. When the circling gets a little tired, he gives his partner a spin under his arm. Gotta flex those skills a bit. As Kita comes to face him again, he’s closer. Atsumu can hear his heart in his ears as Kita gently lays his cheek against his chest and wonders if he can hear it too. ‘Cause that’s fucking _embarrassing_.

“Thanks for comin’ to visit.”

“It’s nothin’. Been a while anyhow.”

“It’s good to see you, I've been missin’ you lately.” Holy shit. He knows his face is red and in a distant land ‘Samu is probably busting a gut laughing at his expense.

“Yeah?” is all he can manage to get out.

“Yeah,” Kita says, running his hands up Atsumu’s shoulders to rest on the back of his neck and leaving a thousand goosebumps along the way. _Holy shit_. He isn’t about to let Kita be the only brave one, no way in hell. He’d left his hands politely on Kita’s sides ‘til now, not wanting to be too presumptuous. But all that was out the window at this point, so he slides them down and around to bring his old captain closer.

A rainstorm kicks up outside, pounding against the roof and the windows, but it couldn’t be further from his mind. He’s got Kita Shinsuke, of all people, in his arms and he’s not lettin’ go for some ol’ rain.

“You got practice tomorrow?”

“Nope.” The answering silence doesn't sound convinced. “C’mon, Kita-san, have a li'l faith!”

“Okay, okay. When do you have to be back?” Atsumu could tell that Kita was mulling over something at his little perch by the window where he’s pretending to watch the rain.

“Uhhhhh, Monday. Noon. You tryin’ to get rid of me already?”

“Never.”

“S–Stop sayin’ stuff like that!”

“Like what?” Kita turns to look at him and he can feel his cheeks getting pink.

“Cheesy, goopy stuff!”

“Why?”

“Because!” He sits back a bit on the couch as Kita stalks closer to him, and he finds himself unable to think or move or really even _breathe_ because Kita is reaching towards him, what the hell is he supposed to _do_. But then the hand passes straight over his shoulder to grab the mugs of tea they’d long left behind on the end table.

“It's late, we should get to bed,” Kita says, the hint of smirk on his face as he takes the mugs back into the kitchen. With the sound of Kita washing dishes somewhere behind him, Atsumu has the distinct feeling he’s being toyed with. 

“So, you got a spare futon made up for me, Kita-san?”

“Nope.”

“Ooh, so I’m bunkin’ with you? If ya wanted me in your bed you coulda just asked.”

“Hm, nah, I think you’ll be fine on the couch.”

“Kita-san! I’m your guest, how could you treat me like this!”

“My guest who didn’t even tell me he was coming.” Okay, fair point. “Be glad I’m not sendin’ you out in the rain to find an inn.” 

“So mean!” 

The sink shuts off and Kita doesn’t even spare him a glance as he walks by, throwing a final comment over his shoulder as he goes into his bedroom, “Ain’t that what you wanted? Goodnight.”

Atsumu stews on the couch for a moment and considers the situation. Kita-san is playing a complicated game, some kinda 4D chess and Atsumu isn’t even any good at _regular_ chess. But his bedroom door isn’t completely closed. And although Kita usually makes him _stop_ and take a breather, he figures now would be a good time to _go go go_ for it.

Fuck it.

Sleeping on the couch would give him a crick in the neck anyway. 

(Which is the exact excuse he gives Kita, who gives him a deadpan look but still makes room in his bed because it’s important to take care of one’s health, right?)


End file.
